Wishing Box
by rune101
Summary: Revenge is the only thing on Loki's mind when he is given the opportunity to take out those who stood between him and the Midgardian throne. The choice is simple - do or do not. The Avengers meanwhile have their own problems to deal with in the wake of the destruction - not to mention the media's blaming it all on them. Tony/Loki.


A/N: This idea came about a few hours after I got home from seeing Avengers in theaters with my best friend (yet again, I swear - I'm addicted, we both are really). And I feel that I should address that this fic *isn't* a rewrite, that's just the title; it'll make more sense as you read. Oh yeah, and it's slash...I figured that much was obvious but if you *don't* like slash, click the back button, please.

Disclaimer~ I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the characters, settings, names, or franchises depicted herein; they are all property of the respective copyright holder(s). I merely own the stories and plots in which I have created.

* * *

"So three of our Chitauri fleets have been defeated." It wasn't a question, rather a statement of witnessed fact.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then what else have we got," the words came out in a growling snarl. It was almost a question, but the commanding tone prevented it from being so.

"We still have it my Lord. Pyxis."

"Our enemy is great."

"Exactly why we will need Pyxis. We cannot defeat our enemies from beyond their dimension. We must gather aid."

"Loki."

"Loki, my Lord? But Loki has already failed us. Our escape, our fleets-"

"And he is being held prisoner. He will keep our end of the bargain as we will keep his. And he will suffer far greater than any Asgardian punishiment will allow for his failures." There was a smile, glowing blue eyes slanting and jagged blood-like toned teeth pulling out of a sinister grin.

"So it will be done...my Lord."

Loki's eyes wandered in the darkness. He had been whipped thoroughly, past a point of delirium. Now he sat in a dark damp cell where no light shone through. He was on the very verge of madness. Even his heightened Asgardian senses were beginning to weave nonsensical tales; footsteps when no guards were present, singing when no other voice existed, mocking laughter with no owner, conversations that sounded loud in his head and soft outside of the confines of his own mind. And chanting. Chanting chanting chanting. Endless chanting. "It won't stop!" Loki screamed.

There were footsteps and dark laughter. "We can stop this. All of it. The endlessly incessant prattle that plagues you. The noise. We can quiet your mind."

Loki laughed. "And this is the best my mind can conjure? I am ashamed. I thought my mind more astute than all this." Loki decided that if madness wanted him then it could have him; he'd gone from hearing things to seeing things. Things that didn't exist. The lack of stimuli along with the restriction of movement was beginning to destroy not only his resolve but his sanity as well. He just wished that his mind could do better. Really, a dark man in a cape with a voice like gravel and broken glass? He had already foreseen having a full blown hallucination; he just didn't expect that his mind wished to plague him further.

Some recompense this was. He had thought that when he finally had gone far off enough, his hallucinations would be a thing of joy; of pleasure wrought from his his agony. He may have even given himself to the thought that it would be akin to a Midgardian experiencing a mirage in the desert - something of an oasis, however fake it may have been. But not this. Not a carbon copy of that Chauri bastard that he'd had the displeasure of doing business with. 'All-powerful army, my ass.' Loki though bitterly.

"Have you the mind to consider this deal?" Instead of vanishing like Loki kept willing it to, the Chitauri copy stepped through the bars, walking close to Loki inside his cell.

"You know, Odin be damned, for a hallucination you look quite...well real." Loki let his head drop to the right, willing even harder for the hallucination to disappear. "Dammit, this isn't working!" He yelled as very real indeed steps sounded closer.

"We have a deal for you-"

"You keep speaking of a damned deal! What deal is so important that you must plague me with your presence?" Loki shouted desperately, hating the vulnerable anger in his voice.

"We have a deal for you, if you should so accept, Asgardian."

Loki was going to scream. He was tired of any notion of a deal. The only deal he was willing to make was a deal to quiet his mind enough to make the Chitauri hallucination vanish. Okay, he would humor his broken mind. Maybe then it would cease it's needless prattle of deals. Aside from that, none of the deals Loki had made had ever turned out well for himself. He just couldn't avoid using his current situation as a prime example. "Go on." But even as Loki ground out those words, they held absolutely no level of true interest. He wanted to be left to his solitude.

"We ask little and much of you at once." 'Why wouldn't he shut up?' "We ask of you to open Pyxis-"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait." Loki chuckled. "So my conscience wishes for me to open Pandora's Box? I must be more insane than I presently thought." The Midgardian myths of Pandora's Box, otherwise referred to as Pithos, but more literally known as Pyxis*, were just that. Tales, myths, fakes, lies, meritless truths perhaps. But even so they might as well been truths. Pandora's Box was like unleashing a horde of damned billshnipe onto everyone. A shift in the universe was never a good thing.

"My Lord has demanded this. When the Midgardian dimension shifts, the Avengers will be vulnerable. The shift will not take away their powers, but they will have no-"

"No knowledge of who they once were. And you need me because only a formidable Asgardian can open Pyxis." Loki finished. He was starting to get the feeling that this guy wasn't a delusion at all. That maybe, no - certainly, this was that Chitauri bastard.

The bloody colored teeth poked out when the Chitauri chuckled. "Yes. Do this and you will have your kingdom. Any insolent Midgardians will easily be taken care of. And we will be free. But make no mistake, if you fail, your death will be slow and never-ending. We will make sure your suffering will last longer than eternity itself." The Chitauri walked ever closer and only now did Loki realize that he could see through him. That was right, the real physical form of the Chitauri was trapped beyond that dimension. "There will be no second chances with this."

Of course there would be no second chances. When the shift began all dimensions would be obscured from one another. The Chitauri must really be desperate to carry faith in the god of deceit. Loki nodded. "Then I will rule as the rightful king and you will have your freedom."

"Pyxis' effects will only last for such a duration, and only the one who opens Pyxis will retain his memory during this period. It should be simple. Take care of them, we doubt that they will put up much a fight." The Chitauri circled around Loki, "do this and you will be granted your freedom as well. Freedom from this prison that binds you." The air grew quiet before the Chitauri continued, "or stay here. Your choice."

Loki opened his mouth but before the words could leave his lips, the Chitauri held up a hand. "We will return in due time for your answer, of that you can be sure, Asgardian." The Chitauri smirked, "but until that time lets us bask in the glory of the prisons that chain us, so that we may know true glory when the time comes. And you may know true resolve." The Chitauri stepped forward and his, at least Loki thought that it was a "he", form disappeared completely.

With nothing else left, an odd thought creeped into his mind. Why did the Chitauri keep referring to himself as 'two' by saying "we" so often? So did it have a - oh fuck. Loki felt his stomach regrettably lurch as the image of a similar looking Chitauri taking the Chitauri he had contact with filled his mind. It was disgusting; he'd of rather watched billshnipe mate, and that alone was one of Asgard's most disgusting sights imaginable. But that would have served as a possibility for the whole "we" thing. Sure, it was the most obscure possibility imaginable, but it was the first one his mind had offered. The ones that followed were far more rational though.

He really needed to get out of this place.

"Thanos, my Lord, the Chitauri said, addressing his lord. I have projected, and he has considered. I am certain his choice will be most favorable to us."

Thanos smiled, if the action could even pass as being so by that term. "Excellent."

* * *

Stark was laid back on the couch. Pepper and he had done a lot of remodeling but Stark tower, his baby, had really had a number done on it by that staff wielding asshole of a god who had just so happened to attempt to take over the city of New York and not to mention trashed a good number of the entire area. And all the press had to fall back on was him. Iron Man; Tony Stark of Stark Industries to pay for all the damage. But no matter what reporter or newcast member tried to cast a shadow of doubt on him, the bright beacon of hope and heroism still shone on Stark, and even the most underhanded or skilled the tactics seemed to sway the majority of the publics' opinion on the man. The city saw him as a hero. The government saw him as a nuisance; they just wanted to cover up everything as quickly as possible and go on as if nothing had ever happened. But Ironman was a reminder of what had happened.

Problem was it wasn't entirely simple to shut up all the thousands of survivors and those who had bore witness to the events, either on TV or from a 'safe' distance.

"Apparently the city's suing you for six point five million dollars in damages," Pepper said, dropping an official-looking manila folder onto the glass coffee table in front of Tony.

"You mean us-"

"Actually I meant eighty-eight percent you and twelve percent me," Pepper jokingly countered.

"Well, I did give you a choice to have fifteen percent. It was a good business deal, you turned it down Ms. Potts." Tony joked back, albeit with a somewhat serious tone for effect.

"A three percent difference. Huh. Not much if you ask me," Pepper chuckled before waving off the running joke with her hand. As much as she'd love to spend the day joking around with Tony, she had more important matters to attend to. "There's a lawyer down in D.C. who I contacted. He's really good. If all goes well you won't be held responsible for any of the damage to the city."

"I save the city and you think they'd be grateful," Tony said without acknowledging Pepper's words. "You'd think they would build a statue of me or something, not hand me a bill for the damage."

Pepper chuckled softly, walking over to Tony, "well, maybe not everyone is grateful, but the survivors certainly are."

Tony nodded, pulling Pepper into his lap. She yelped and nearly landed in an ungraceful heap on his calves, but he caught her. "Yeah. Did you see all those handsome devils with their faces shaved into goatees? I tell you they have a true sense of style."

Pepper playfully pushed Tony's shoulder. "Of course you would like it," she said sarcastically. "Though I doubt it's doing your already overfed ego any good." Now it was Tony's turn to playfully push at Pepper's shoulder.

"Although it's the thought that counts, I do wish people were getting tattoos of my logo like Captain Spangles." When Pepper raised an eyebrow Tony put up both hands in a show of defense, "not complaining and all though."

Pepper chuckled. It was true. Everyone had sort of had their own form of groupies either form or increase in number after, what Tony liked to call Crisis Averted, or their battle against those freaky looking Chitauri things. Steve had an influx of little kids begin to look up to him, just like he could remember in the old days when not only did he bring forth hope and inspiration in his fellow soldiers, but those who could not join the effort at home, be they women, the ill, the young, or the elderly. The Captain also had a group that started on his behalf that called themselves, and he couldn't think about it without laughing, "The Spangled Do-Gooders." Not to mention a number of people had his symbol tattooed someplace on their bodies.

Natasha had inspired a fashion trend among young, and not so young women. She had reinspired a growth of female independence and as such, red hair dye was flying off the shelves.

Clint had a bunch of fangirls and fanboys coming out of the woodwork, most of them calling him Robin Hood, rather than his preferred, and admittedly more badass title, Hawkeye. Needless to say, archery classes from Manhatten to New York were all now swamped with new "Robin Hood aspire-ees".

Thor, on the otherhand now had his own cartoon show and the more nerdy ones of New York's society had started several campaigns to raise awareness of the truth held in Norse mythology. Needless to say, outside of witnesses and believers, the rest of society thought it was ridiculous. Aside from being the star of a cartoon based on him, kids looked up to him too, and plushy little Mjolnirs sold like hot cakes.

Bruce carried much the same effect, though mostly with impressionable young boys who imitated him and bought all his Big Guy toys and repeated words in violent broken English. Usually something along the lines of, "Hulk smash!" And that was the name that had caught on. The big green fella was christened Hulk. And it fit. Bruce was indeed a hulking mass of green destruction whenever he took on the Big Guy's form. In fact, Tony thought that he should be the one with the bill for the city's ruin rather than himself.

Even Loki, the bastard responsible, had his own fanclub. On that same note, the presence of the Chitauri had also incited a new wave of shady underground occultists as well.

Tony himself had a lot more fans, and since his identity wasn't especially a secret, a few more disapproving denizens than he had before. But he could take the good with the bad because those people blamed him because it was merely convenient and who else was there to blame if not him? How about monsters from a different dimension that appeared out of a hole in the sky? No, of course not. Apparently the truth just wasn't good enough for some of the more ignorant. But at least kids liked him too. Heck, his plastic Iron suits that shot silly string from the palms were actually pretty popular in stores.

"What's on your mind?" Pepper asked.

"Just wishing people'd get me tattooed on their arms like Captain Spangley."

Pepper chuckled before getting up. "Well I have to meet with that lawyer to get things settled. I'll see you later Tony."

Tony pouted for a moment until realizing that was fruitless and then nodded, "call me afterwards, I'll most likely be down in the lab, but Jarvis will patch you through."

Pepper looked up at the ceiling as if that were where Jarvis were located. "Yes sir, I will do so," Jarvis affirmed.

Pepper nodded much like Tony had done just moments before and slipped her shoes on. "'Kay, bye."

"Bye," Tony responded and Pepper got into the elevator. After she was gone, Tony sighed. He really didn't feel like working in the lab today. Or any day of this week, for that matter. His back still hurt from Bruce, or he guessed the Big Guy - but they were one and the same now, casually pushing him off and onto the cold, hard, unforgiving concrete. Normally he wouldn't have cared but his suit had already been jacked to hell, and that tiny action hadn't been absorbed by the scratched, and not to mention dented and otherwise trashed Iron suit.

"Sir, would you like me to call a chiropractor?" Jarvis asked, taking note of Tony's obvious discomfort. Before Tony could answer, Jarvis continued, "Master Stark, there are multiple associates of yours requesting entry."

"Who is it?" Tony asked, quick on the uptake. In response to his question Jarvis lit up the tablet that had been sitting on the coffee table powered off, and the holographic security footage popped up. It showed Steve with his nose dangerously close to the camera, so much so that Tony felt the urge to look away, Clint had his arms stoically crossed, Natasha's red hair was almost obscured by the tall mass that could only be Thor, and Bruce stood a good distance away from the circus-come-to-town. "Let them in Jarvis," Tony said with a groan, regrettably. He really just wanted some peace. And that chiropractor.

"Right away sir." The AI responded.

When they came through the elevator, Tony sat up. "So to what do I owe this occasion?" Tony asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"I had to gather all of you, my friends, Man of Iron," Thor started jovially, "it is Jane!" Natasha rolled her eyes like this was a complete waste of her time, and the S.H.I.E.L.D operative had better things to do; she probably had too. "Jane is with child!"

"What?" That didn't stop her, nor Tony's jawline from cascading to the floor though.

"Congradulations Big Guy," Steve intoned, awkwardly patting Thor's shoulder.

"Yeah...congrads, Point Break," Tony said, after pushing through most of the shock. It wasn't surprising that it was Jane who was the soon-to-be mother, no, that was a little expected. What was shocking was the news in and of itself. Jane, a human, at least that's what S.H.I.E. intel had to say about her, and Thor, a god, together equalled a baby? It was a little much to wrap his head around. But in turn that meant something else entirely as well. It would appear that gods of Thor's kind had sex the very same way humans did. Tony made a mental note to file that piece of information away for a rainy day. Mostly to fluster Thor though. Heck, what else was one supposed to do on an uneventful day other than annoy the god of lightning?

"Why is no one happy? Is this not cause for celebration?" Thor asked, his tone frustrated.

"No, no, that's not it!" Tony piped up, causing the other Avengers, at least that's what they had begun to call themselves, to look at him. The last thing he wanted was another angry god in his Tower. He didn't want to see his baby, Stark Towers, take another abolishing beating like that. It still hadn't recovered from Loki's hissy fit during Crisis Averted, and although all the glass had been replaced, it was just temporary until Tony could get in his shipment of pallidium based metallic glass. In a roundabout way it was good that the flimsy thin glass of Stark Tower had been destroyed, making a point of how it needed to be replaced with something far better, but you just didn't do that. You just didn't put someone through the glass of their own home and, on top of it all, trash the place. And lest Tony not forget, try and take over the world. His world. And steal his Tower. Tony's Tower. He really had a bone to pick with that god, Loki. He hoped he was getting his just deserts.

"Then what exactly 'is it', son of Stark?"

"We were just surprised is all. We all were," Clint offered and everyone, Tony included - actually, Tony especially, nodded their head vigorously.

"Ah, is it so surprising that I am fertile? I mean I am still with youth, son of Barton."

"No one denied that," Bruce said, speaking for the first time since he arrived, "but I'm sure we all have many things to do. You should be with Jane, Tony probably has," Bruce looked around at the Tower that was in the works of being fixed up, "some things to do...Uhm, even Natasha and Clint are probably busy as well."

"Ah, you speak words of wisdom beyond your years, Green Man." Thor looked around at his fellow Avengers. "Well, I must be off."

Thor started to swing his hammer in an arc before Tony stopped him, "Whoa, whoa, Point Break. Do you mind taking the elevator down and not busting through my ceiling? 'Cause I hear it's going to rain today."

"But sir," Jarvis chimed in, "the weather-"

"Shush, Jarvis."

"Ah, yes." Thor smiled sheepishly before proceeding to the elevator.

When he had gone, Tony wiped an invisible line of sweat from his forehead with the back of his palm. "That was a close one."

Natasha laughed before adding, "well that was quite eventful, but I need to be going now."

Barton nodded in agreement, "Natasha and I are working on an assignment, or we were anyways until..." his voice trailed off for a moment before he could think of how to describe what just happened other than Thor being...well, Thor-ish. Or a thorn in the side. "Anyways, I'll be going."

Bruce shot his thumb in the directtion of the elevator as well. "I just got a position in S.H.I.E.L.D as head of the science team. And y'know, I've got a lot of trainees. Don't wanna' let them down and all." With that, Bruce went to the elevator to join Barton and Romanoff, and the elevator closed before descending.

"Well, what about you, Cap. Wanna' join the party?" Tony laughed.

Steve chuckled. "Well unlike everyone else, I really don't have anything to do."

"But didn't S.H.I.E.L.D offer you a position as head of recruit training for their combat forces?" Tony asked conversationally.

"Yeah but I turned that-" Steve shook his head as if something had just hit him. "Wait, how'd you...?"

"I know a lot of things," Tony countered, trying to save face. He tapped his head, "genius, remember?"

"Nosy genius," Steve muttered.

"Excuse me, what?" Tony asked in mock offense.

"Well Banner's a genius, and you don't see him indulging in my business." When Tony blinked at him he metaphorically stumbled. "That is how you say it, right? Clint's been helping me 'use the right context' as he puts it."

Tony laughed, "that's one way to put it. I'm just surprised you know what nosy even means."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I may come from a very different time, and there may be a lot more things that run on some form of electricity than before, but at the heart of it, everything's still the same."

Tony nodded with a rare look of genuine agreement. The only person he usually agreed with was Banner, but their conversations usually flew over his head anyways; they might as well have been speaking a whole other language entirely for all Steve understood of it. "Can I get you a drink?" Tony asked, walking over to his bar and pulling out two shot glasses, one of which he began to fill with that deep amber liquid that could only be some sort of high-quality, overpriced alcohol beverage of some sort.

Steve felt his face flush. He came from the time of the Prohibition. A time where alcohol was illegal, but bootleggers still did business because everyone wanted a drink, even more-so because there was a thrill in knowing that what they were doing was illegal. Although Steve himself had never known. Back then his world had been comprised of two things, and two things alone. Winning the war and Peggy. That was it. But Peggy had long since died and when he woke up the war had already been won. "Yeah, I'll take that drink," Steve said, his thoughts turning somber.

Tony poured the drink but pulled it back when Steve reached for it. "You really gonna' be okay?" Tony sat down next to him and handed him his drink. "Because you don't have to front with me."

Steve didn't exactly know the word-for-word definition of what it meant "to front", but he got the gist of it. "I know it's just-"

Tony held his fingers to his lips, effectively silencing him. "I know some people say it's better to get it all out, and most of the time it is, but there are just some things that take awhile. You don't have to tell me now. Hell, you don't have to tell me at all."

Steve nodded softly, hanging on Tony's every word. He had never considered the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist a friend before, in fact nowhere near it. The two always fought like something akin to cats and dogs, but two dogs fighting would've painted a better picture. Sharp jabs and insensitive comments were also the norm of the direction their conversations started and ended at. This level of understanding surprised them both.

Tony got up and went to his bar, taking out a much stronger, and also much more expensive drink. After he opened it he brought the whole bottle back to the couch and refilled both of their glasses. Steve slowly sipped his drink, his eyes becoming glassy.

"So apparently Captain America's a lightweight," Tony intoned with a slight chuckle.

"Who're you callin' a light...weight?" the fact that he was slurring didn't help his argument any.

Somehow, against his better judgment, Steve had convinced Tony to continue drinking with him and they were both thoroughly inebriated. They talked, or rather slurred, on about their lives, hopes, dreams, ambitions, pasts, mistakes, secrets, regrets, everything and anything. And in this case it was true that the drunken tongue was far more open and honest than the sober one.

"You're a good listener when you want to be," Steve said slowly, his gaze heavy on Tony.

Tony leaned in and kissed Steve softly, experimentally, on the lips. Steve looked up through long lashes, and something in the back of his mind told him that this was a bad idea; a very bad idea. Back in his day this wasn't acceptable, it was a shameful sin. Times had changed, but that still didn't make it any better. But Steve chose to ignore the red flags going off in his head. Tony held out his hand and Steve took it, leading him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Before Tony could open the door, he heard Jarvis. "Master Stark," the AI trailed off. It was both a warning and a friendly reminder, both free of judgment. If the AI were human, the words would probably be 'think about this,' or 'make sure you know what you're doing,' or even 'are you sure about this?'.

"No need to worry Jarvis."

"Yes sir." Jarvis withheld adding that he couldn't actually worry, but could only voice the concern he was programmed to have for Stark.

With that said, Tony walked into his room, Steve in tow, and pulled him onto the bed. Rather than fuck, Tony wrapped his arms protectively around Steve because he knew this was what the superhuman really needed. Physical contact, yes. Sex, no. That would only be something the blue eyed man would regret come morning. Tony was a lot of things, but a drunken and thoroughly regretted sex partner was not one of them. Besides that he doubted he could get it up with all the alcohol in his system, and it'd be pretty embarrassing, drunk or not, to be flaccid when the moment came.

Steve looked at Tony curiously, thinking they were going to go much further than spooning, but quietly glad that Tony hadn't initiated anything more. He wouldn't have objected, but his foggy mind was telling him he wasn't ready, especially not for a jump in what he previously had known as illegal, to a somewhat acceptable act, depending on who you asked of course. "You really are something," Steve muttered into Tony's chest.

Tony grunted a tired affirmation, only half hearing the words, but certainly not taking them in.

Back in the living room on the glass coffee table, Tony's cell phone vibrated. After it finished ringing through, the vibrating restarted until a notification read that a voice message had been left. The call was from Pepper.

* * *

Clint and Natasha sat in their shared hotel room. They were posing as a couple to get their hands on an information chip that held Level 4 security intelligence. All they had to do now was attend a few uneventful galas and events and they would be able to get their hands on it; of course that was simply the gist, all details expelled, version of what they had to do, but it was simple enough.

"I wonder why Steve decided to stay," when Natasha looked up from the laptop that she'd been quickly typing on and gave him a confused stare, Clint elaborated, "y'know, back at Stark's."

Natasha closed her laptop slowly and nodded at the same pace. She placed the laptop on her bed and shifted her legs out from under her. She smiled warmly, "why do you bring this up now, is something the matter?" She fixed him with a soft unwaivering gaze.

Anyone else would've been fooled because she played the part, and she played it well. She had gone into interrogation mode.

"I'm sure," Clint said rather defensively.

Natasha stood up and walked to Clint, purposefully poising herself on the edge of his hotel room bed. "You wouldn't bring that up for nothing, Agent Barton." Yes, she was definitely in interrogation mode. "I owe you, anything I can do to wipe out the red in my ledger I will do."

"I know just...can we-"

Before he could continue, Natasha had him pinned down to the bed with a grip like a vice and a blade pressed at his neck, though her face was calm and betrayed no emotion. "Love is for children," she whispered sensually in his ear, but only pressed the blade tighter, "don't let yourself get distracted, we have a job to do." With that she removed the blade, replacing it under her skirt and smiled, putting out her hand to help Clint up.

Clint hesitated before he took it.

* * *

Loki sat in his cell, sweat dripping from his forehead. He had calmed his mind somewhat with the idea of freedom. And vengeance would be his. He could crush the band of misfits that deigned to call themselves the Avengers. Each and every single one of them. The woman with hair the deceitfully charming color of a rose, though she was more of a thorn. A thorn in his side that he'd happily berid himself of. Barton, the archer whose mind he had taken over, yet in the end had been the one to shoot the explosive arrow at him; oh how he planned to make him suffer, lest he forget his promise to Natalia Romanova on how his death would play out - it was late of course, but better late than never. That green baffoon that'd tossed him about like a ragdoll, yes, he'd get his as well. And not to forget that damn man of Iron who had not been susceptible to his staff's powers. How he would enjoy taking him apart piece by piece. Oh and that was not to forget his dear elder brother Thor. He would make sure that his existance would mean nothing. Starting at Jane, then destroying the rest of his so-called friends, and when he was all that was left, Loki would kill him, when his immortal existance meant nothing even to him, so that he would know true suffering; his suffering. Loki chuckled. This would just be all too easy.

Now all there was to do was wait. And Loki could do that. He could wait centuries, if need be, though he doubted the humans of the Avengers would live that long. What tiny insignificant life spans those beings held. Loki chuckled, a laugh of a man who had simply gone mad, for in retrospect, he had.

* * *

The ball had begun and everyone was dancing, round and round, long elegant dresses spun. Natasha entered with Clint at her hand. They weren't posing as a rich couple of a rather successful business company, rather they were a rich couple of a successful business company. There was no room for error, and no matter how good of an actor one was, there was always room for error or slip-ups. They had to become the face of the person they were playing, but by now, the act came as easily as breathing for the two S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

After they descended and greeted the guests, the man they had been looking for stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentleman, today we have a very special-"

A gunshot rang out. Natasha's eyes widened.

* * *

A/N:: Review, favorite, follow, or all three if you liked it; click the back button if you're absolutely horrified at what your eyes have shown you. Just as a heads up, this is still headed in the direction of a FrostIron, scouts honor, but y'know, Tony likes to live up to his self-proclamation of being a playboy.

*Pyxis: The actual myth writes that Pandora opened a jar (pithos means jar) and unleased evil upon the world, not a box. Due to a translation error, from Greek to Latin, pithos became pyxis, meaning "box". And from then on out it came to be known as "Pandora's Pyxis" (Pandora's Box) instead of "Pandora's Pithos" (Pandora's Jar). I decided to play around with the idea of Pyxis, or Pandora's Box, and though the two words can be argued either way for being the same or not, they will be used interchangably in this fic.

Sorry for the history lesson, it was relevant, I swear.


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